


Adventures in Kitten Therapy

by zemm5108



Series: Adventures in Kitten Therapy [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kitten!Stiles, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zemm5108/pseuds/zemm5108
Summary: When life in Beacon Hills gets you down, what you really need is some kitten therapy. The question is who needs it more, Derek or Stiles?Stiles gets turned into a kitten, lost and scared he winds up at Derek Hale's loft. Derek's not used to kittens appealing to him for help, but he can't help but find this one kinda cute...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Adventures in Kitten Therapy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627486
Comments: 15
Kudos: 373





	Adventures in Kitten Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Reason: I needed something cute and gosh darn but so do our favourite Teen wolf will-they-won't-they couple. Canon compliance really only happens by accident but I'm the puppet master for this one so I'm not losing sleep over it. May become a series one day. Teen Wolf isn't mine.

The kitten scrambles along the wet rooftop as fast as he can. His heart is pounding and he struggles to hear anything above the roar of the wind and the thundering of the rain as it batters the buildings. The kitten slides to a halt, tiny feet scrabbling for purchase on the slope of the roof. Before him the roof falls away into darkness, the gap a yawning chasm between the buildings. The kitten mewls in distress and looks back; was it still coming? The weather is making the scent difficult to find and even his eyes are near useless that night. A low menacing growl makes its way through the sheeting rain. The small creature's heart picks up further in panic, he takes off down the side of the roof and, reaching the end of the slope, flings himself forwards for dear life. He lands with a thump on the flat roof one story below, rolling in the puddles and letting loose a call of pain. The growl comes again, closer this time, and fear spurs the kitten up once more. He hopes he can find a way down or maybe a place to hide. He knows he could never outrun his pursuer and he is no match for it in a fight. He would be ripped limb from limb in a second.

Instinctively he heads for the corner of the roof, near to the large slanting window that rises high above his head. Splashing through the puddles, he skitters into the corner, attempting to make himself seem even smaller than the sodden ball of fur he resembles. Another roar sounds as the beast advances onto the flat roof, making the kitten tremble. Shrinking further into the corner, praying for one last chance, he sees a gap between the corner of the window and the bricks behind him, maybe a bad extension or some sort of damage, hope springs to life in his chest again and he dives for the opening, deadly jaws snapping shut on the spot he was hiding one second later.

The hole is a squeeze even for him but the kitten hardly feels the scratches of splintered wood as he pulls himself through to safety. He picks himself up and shakes himself, water sprinkling off his fur. He looks around at the room. It is quite bare, sparsely furnished and uncluttered, with wood floors and rafters. At least it is dry. The kitten pads forward tentatively, keeping close to the walls and listening intently, his ears twitching. All is quiet. Apart from the spattering of the rain on the large sloping window, everything is peaceful. Even the beast seems to have given up. The kitten feels himself relax slightly. He yawns, the fatigue of running for his life for much of the night finally catching up to him.

Stiles shivers, struggling to get warm with his fur still dripping wet. Now that the panic from earlier is dying down, it is easier to think with his human thoughts and not with his more instinctive kitten ones. He skirts the edge of the room keeping in the shadows, he isn't about to trust that this new place is any safer than outside without checking first. Not quite having mastery of his new limbs, he knocks over a waste paper bin and a pile of paperbacks stacked beside a sofa on his way. He comes to a stop on the cold tiles of the kitchen and a whimper of distress escapes him before he can stop it. His tummy is aching with hunger and here he is so close to potentially all sorts of food and he can't access any of it. It has been almost a full twenty hours since he'd last eaten by his count and the little kitten body is becoming desperate.

There is nothing to be done however. He can't open the fridge or the cupboards at his tiny size and even the food bin, if he becomes desperate enough for that, is too high for his uncoordinated scrabbling to reach. Exhaustion is making itself known too. He has travelled what feels like miles, albeit not very fast on tottering little legs, and he is much too tired to stay awake any longer. Stiles makes his way despondently back into a corner between the sofa and the wall. He licks his fur as dry as he can with his little tongue and flops down in a rather sad, sorry ball of damp fur to sleep.

Some time later he wakes with a start to the sound of the thundering of the apartment door as it is dragged open. The smell hits the little kitten like a tonne of bricks. Danger! Predator! Run! Hide! He scrambles back further against the wall, eyes wide as he watches the man who has just entered. He hopes desperately that he hasn't been detected but then the man pauses on his way to the kitchen, tilts his head and seems to sniff. He comes towards the kitten's corner then stops as he catches sight of the tiny animal. Stile's little heart is hammering in his chest. The man looks puzzled, then he lets out a grunt to himself and miraculously turns away and goes back to the kitchen. He begins preparing food, his movements slow and confident, comfortable in his routine.

The kitten watches the man closely, his senses still on high alert. He must have spotted him. He must! But the man just keeps moving around the kitchen, not hurrying, not even banging doors as he goes. Slowly the kitten's heart starts to slow down again. He uncurls just a bit from his crouched position. Gradually, as his panic dies down again he thinks the man looks a little familiar. He is tall with dark hair and eyebrows and stubble. Stiles doesn't recognise his smell but then he's only had a kitten's nose for a day. His train of thought is interrupted as the man leaves the kitchen and walks towards his hiding place and a spike of fear sends his tiny hackles up once again.

The man, however, doesn't come closer than six feet from his spot behind the sofa. He stops and puts two bowls on the floor, almost underneath a small end table that stands there on tall legs. Then he goes away again and sits at the big table at the edge of the kitchen area with his back to Stiles and begins to eat. After a moment the kitten peeps his nose around the corner of the sofa. Stiles feels sure that there's food in at least one of the bowls, and he's so hungry. On tiny silent paws he creeps forward, keeping tight against the side of the sofa. Eventually he reaches the table. The man still hasn't moved. Stiles peeps over the edge of the nearest bowl. It smells yummy, stronger than usual but some part of his brain identifies chicken. He hopes it isn't cat food. At least it seems to match the smell of what the man is eating. He extends a tentative tongue. It's delicious. Stiles's hunger wins out over any further caution and he sets to with gusto. Very soon he has to set both his little front paws on the edge of the bowl and leans down as far as his short neck would reach, aches and pains forgotten for the moment. Luckily, perhaps, his little kitten tummy gets full up before he has to actually climb into the bowl. Stiles licks around his lips as thoroughly as he can. He's becoming aware that he might have made a bit of a mess.

Hunger now sorted he turns to the other bowl and finds it full of water. Drinking as a kitten is a tricky business and Stiles finds himself with a nose full of water before he manages to sort out the lapping process. Once he's drunk his fill he shoots a glance at the man. He's still sitting at the table, now with a mug in front of him. With his needs satisfied he lets out a wide squeaky yawn and stretches out all his toes (double the normal number). Feeling a lot more relaxed he takes another look at the man. And then his eyes snap wide open in a moment. It's Derek Hale! It's actually Derek freaking Hale! How did he not notice this! Sure Derek is now over twenty times Stiles's height, but he still looks the same as always: buff, grumpy werewolf in dark henley. Stiles thinks it must be the effect of panicked kitten brain overtaking cool rational Stiles brain. All his perception has been led by the kitten instincts and most pressing needs. He has certainly recognised the werewolf bit. None of the other people Stiles has seen through kitten eyes cause such a response. This is probably a good thing, all he has to do is make Derek realise who he is and get him to help change him back! Stiles feels at least 70% sure that Derek doesn't eat small defenceless kittens. Apparently he feeds them. Now for phase 1 of 'I am Stiles'

* * * * *

Derek sits at the table, stoically resisting any temptation to turn around and see what his visitor is up to. He gets on with animals about as well as he gets on with most humans, they are always afraid of the werewolf. He is very surprised to hear the little thing eating after a while. He wonders what he should do about it. No doubt it is far too scared to stay with him. Maybe a shelter or Deaton's?

He's surprised out of his thoughts some minutes later when the kitten pads over to the side of his chair. Such a tiny thing it is, with deep smoky grey fur all over except for white paws. The fur is somewhat damp and dirty. The kitten cranes its neck back to look at him and lets out a mew. He reaches down slowly, not wanting to scare the little creature. It darts back a few paces so he holds his hand still not quite touching it. Very cautiously it steps closer and touches its nose to Derek's fingers. Then it buts his hand with the top of its head. Very gently he curls his fingers and scratches behind its fluffy ears. He's heard this is a thing you do with cats. It freezes and lets out a, “Meep.” Derek tenses, sure he's messed up and hurt the kitten's delicate ears or something. Then it pushes up insistently, demanding more scratches. Derek complies, a bit firmer and a purr erupts from somewhere in the middle of the little ball of fur. It goes almost boneless and flops down on its side, the toes of one back leg twitching. A boy then, Derek thinks. Derek's back is getting uncomfortable by this time so he shifts to sitting cross legged on the floor. Keeping the scratching going, Derek runs the fingers of his other hand down the kitten's back, stroking the super soft fur. He's absolutely fascinated. The fact is he's never touched a kitten or even a cat before, because of the werewolf thing, and he's finding it madly cute.

He frowns. He can feel that the kitten is hurting. As he's stroking, he draws the pain out of the little body. There's not too much, but enough to make Derek check for injuries, running his fingers gently over the body. As he passes over the tiny shoulders and hip, the kitten lets out a little squeal of discomfort.  
“Sorry, sorry. I just need to see if it's a bad one.” He parts the fur as carefully as he can and sees the red scratches from its flight and squeeze through the window hole. The kitten holds surprisingly still, but lets out mews of pain and screws his eyes shut, batting at Derek's hand with a tiny paw. Derek begins drawing away the pain again.  
“Alright, I'm done looking.” They aren't deep injuries, but Derek's sure they sting and he doesn't want them to get infected.  
“I'm afraid they need washing, little guy. And your fur as well, so the dirt doesn't get into them.” Derek's heard something about cats and baths before too that doesn't make him optimistic about this task. He considers, there may be a way to work this that doesn't involve submerging the kitten.

The kitten watches curiously as he collects a mixing bowl, two large towels, a flannel, some mild soap and a tube of antiseptic cream. He fills the bowl with warm water, lays one of the large towels folded on the floor by the radiator, adds a very little soap to the water and wets the flannel. Then he calls the kitten over. “Come on then, little guy, we need to get you clean.” The kitten, who is sitting at a safe distance, eyes him with suspicion. “I promise I'll be very careful, this won't hurt, I'll take the pain away as much as I can.” A part of his brain is just finishing calling him a pigheaded idiot for trying to negotiate with the animal, when the kitten gets up and trots over.  
“You stand on the towel,” he instructs. The kitten obliges. Derek reaches a hand down and rests it against the kitten's side, drawing the pain once more. Then he bring the flannel into play, starting at the head he rubs the grimy fur gently, sometimes re-wetting the flannel and being as thorough as he can. The kitten behaves better than he hoped. There is some squirming and wriggling and squeaking but it appears to be a token protest and Derek manages to keep his other hand in contact with some part of the kitten most of the time. At last he declares the thing done as best as can be and abandons the flannel in favour of the other large towel which is hanging over the radiator. The kitten is now damp with rapidly cooling water and its fur sticking in all directions. It mewls pitifully when Derek takes the warmth of his hands away. He returns quickly with the warmed towel and wraps it around the small creature. The kitten investigates this new addition to his immediate landscape warily. Then it nuzzles into it with ecstatic joy and rolls around on the heaps of it. Derek, with a small smile to himself, turns to pick up the cream only to turn back and find that the kitten has now burrowed into the towel, only his tail left to view, waving playfully.

“Hey, little guy. I need to put this on your scratches.” His only reply is a defiant meep from the depths of the towel. Derek considers. Then he slides his hand into the towel slowly from the other side, to where he thinks the kittens head is. He knows hand and kitten have met when there is a louder squeak and the kitten darts back out, just in time to meet Derek's other hand that is waiting for him. The kitten is apparently braver in the open and responds to this new adversary by pouncing upon it, both front paws clinging on for dear life. Derek takes the opportunity of this distraction to grab the tube with his free hand, pull the cap off with his teeth and use a finger to apply some to the scratches. The kitten, absorbed in his heroic battle, doesn't notice until he's done, finally releasing his hand, (the tiny pinpricks heal almost instantly) and turning round and round on the spot, trying to inspect his own back leg. He abandons this after a minute and attempts, rather clumsily to lick his fur straight. Derek offers his assistance and the kitten ends up sprawled contentedly on the still warm towel as Derek gently finger combs his now beautifully clean fur back into order.

Later, Derek's cleaning up the dinner things. He refills the kitten's water bowl and puts it back down on the floor, packs leftovers away and washes up. Usually its a dull part of the routine but this time there's a kitten following him everywhere and getting in the way of his feet. He's almost stepped on him several times earning squeaks of disapproval. There's a brief reprieve when Derek's foot accidentally hits a little bottle top that was dropped on the floor. It goes shooting across the wooden floor and the little kitten goes shooting after it like a bat out of hell. Its mostly uncoordinated attempts to catch it send it skidding off once again and the chase continues for some time. The kitten eventually pops out from under the table holding the cap triumphantly in its mouth. He struts proudly over to Derek, tail erect. Derek who can't help finding this incredibly adorable, accepts the returned prize and rewards the tiny thing with more ear scratches.

Derek hasn't had much experience of kittenish behaviour, none really, but over the course of the evening he can't help thinking that this doesn't seem like a typical case. For one thing, the little thing follows him everywhere, and occasionally lets out a series of meeps and squeaky yowls and then regards him with a look of profound expectation. When he gets up to use the bathroom, the kitten hops down off the sofa and scampers alongside his right foot. Derek pauses and admits “I was just going to pee.” His mini shadow freezes, then wheels round with an air of embarrassment and heads back to his cushion. The clincher is when Derek is indulging in a rare episode of Firefly, the kitten perched on his knee, eyes glued to the screen. The episode ends and another is to follow but Derek figures he should probably get some sleep and flicks the screen off. The kitten immediately hops down off his knee and very deliberately steps on the remote control. The screen flicks back on. As Derek reaches for the remote again the kitten sends him the tiniest glare he's ever been given. Shocked at this exchange Derek's Alpha growl begins in his chest. The kitten, not to be out done, retaliates with the biggest hiss he can manage. This turns Derek's growl into a chuckle. The kitten looks distinctly put out.

“Alright, have it your way, we'll leave it on.” he relents. This earns a purr and the kitten climbs back onto his lap, stands up to rest his front paws on Derek's chest and rub his head under his chin. Derek gives him what is very definitely a stroke and not a cuddle. Then he shuffles down to lie along the cushions with the kitten on his chest. He is tired after all. “This is the last one though, you need sleep too.” The kitten eyes him doubtfully. He curls up in his new spot, Derek's hand running over his back gently as the opening credits begin.

By the end of that episode the kitten is asleep, he nose buried in his paws but Derek can't seem to stop stroking his fur. Curled up as he is, his hand can cover the warm ball of fur entirely. Derek gently scoops up the kitten as he stands, he snuffles into the werewolf's hands but doesn't stir. It doesn't seem right to leave the little thing where he might wake up all alone so Derek heads to the bedroom and carefully put his bundle down on one of the pillows. He gets ready himself and lies down on the other side of the bed. Watching the little kitten breathing gently gives him a strange sense of peace as he falls asleep. His tiny visitor must be exhausted, perhaps unsurprisingly considering the state Derek found him in.

He is still asleep when Derek wakes six or seven hours later. Derek sits up and rubs his hands over his face to clear the clouds of sleep. The movement disturbs his sleeping companion and Derek's attention is drawn by the kitten's flailing into wakefulness. All his limbs and tail as well scrabble to get up at once and his head whips around the room so violently that on the unsteady surface the kitten falls over again. He scrambles back to his feet in another explosion of activity, once there he looks bemused at himself and then at Derek who is sitting there frowning. It's definitely a kitten in he can see in front of him, but the damage is done. Derek is frowning deeply now, eyebrows drawn together, “Stiles?”

Stiles leaps from the bed and shoots underneath. Derek has recognised him. He's not sure how, he's definitely still a cat, but he looks awfully angry about it. Probably the thought of having Stiles, who Derek has never liked much at all, in his house, feeding him, stroking him, letting him sleep in his bed. At the sight, and scent, of an angry werewolf the kitten instinct takes over and in his panic he runs.

His suspicion confirmed, Derek follows the kitten, vaulting over the bed and onto the floor. He can make out the shape of the kitten under the bed, crouching and shaking, its eyes wide and fixed on Derek in terror. Derek sighs and sits with his back resting against the bed. It had only been an impression at first, one he hadn't meant to voice, a sudden sense of familiarity, a hundred things from the day before falling into place and then seeing the kitten wake up like that. Then anger had followed, the feeling of being tricked! But then at the end of it all the kitten had run from him, terrified of him, Stiles or not. Derek snorts to himself, as if Stiles wasn't scared of him, surely he'd be hated even more now. Is that all he could do, scare those weaker and smaller than himself? He thought back to the moments of pure happiness he'd felt the previous day when the kitten had trusted him, even more astonishing knowing that it was Stiles! Which leads him to another thought. Stiles! Was a kitten! How does that even work?! He glances down to the dark beneath the bed. He has to fix this somehow.

“Stiles...” he begins, trying to keep his voice low and steady “I suppose I should have guessed earlier, I think I had an idea actually. You don't smell like yourself though. If that was you trying to tell me yesterday by the way, it wasn't very clear, I don't understand cat anymore than dog. Couldn't you have tried writing on something!” At this a little indignant squeak sounds from the dark. Derek takes this as a good sign, and continues talking to the room. “And how did you even get turned into a kitten in the first place? Have we got another supernatural bad guy around then? Although kitten transformations is not the worst we've dealt with. I wonder if it would work on me the same way? How would a werewolf kitten work?” He pauses. He doesn't usually talk this much, that's Stiles' job, and now he's run out of things to say. Thankfully, before the silence becomes too much, he feels a presence beside him. Looking down he sees the kitten sitting there examining the floor intently. Derek thinks he looks a little sheepish.

“You are Stiles then?” The kitten nods with a 'meep' of ascent. Derek reaches out, unaccustomed to it though he is, but he really doesn't like seeing the kitten so down. He pauses though, maybe Stiles wouldn't like to be petted, not now Derek knows who he is. But Stiles is having none of that. Derek's stroking feels awesome and it keeps him from freaking out about maybe being stuck as a kitten forever, so if Derek is still up for giving strokes and ear scratches now he knows it's Stiles he's taking as much as he can get! He puts his paws up on Derek's leg to rub his head against the werewolf's hand and maybe his chest too, in a sort of thank you. He really does appreciate Derek putting up with him like this. He's rewarded by the big warm hand stroking down from his head to his butt over and over again. Eventually Derek breaks the silence.

“We'd better go and see Deaton today and see if he knows anyway to change you back.” Stiles comes out of the blissful head-space and looks at him. “Mew,” he agrees.  
“I guess I'll make some breakfast,” he pauses, a new thought occurring. “Do-Do you want to use the bathroom? I don't have a litter tray...” he lets that hang. Stiles looks appalled at the idea, sticks his nose in the air and stalks towards the bathroom.  
“Don't make a mess!” Derek sends after him. This earns a very put out yowl as Stiles disappears. Derek grins.

Stiles eats on the table this time and off a plate, although Derek has to chop up his sausages. After, Derek moves to the sofa to enjoy his coffee, Stiles hops down and trots after him. Derek is secretly delighted when Stiles jumps up onto his lap straight away. To Stiles, especially with straight forward kitten filter brain on it's a no-brain-er; it's nicer on Derek's lap so that's where he's going to sit. He's very glad when Derek doesn't kick him off but starts right away on the back of his neck. A few minutes later however, Stiles finds himself bereft. Derek is staring into space and the scritches stop. Stiles squeaks crossly at loosing the attention. Derek looks down .  
“Sorry, Stiles,” but the scritches don't start up again.  
“This kitten thing, was it a bad guy who did it?” Stiles mews in the negative and shakes his head.  
“An animal?” another no. Derek tries to think of another question. Stiles tries batting at the hand resting next to him to get it to go back to stroking. It doesn't work.

“Was it an object then?” a shake and a nod.  
“Yes and no!” Stiles whines in frustration. Then he rolls over and jumps down and heads over to a small bay tree which for reasons Derek can't fathom now lives in his loft. He suspects Cora.  
“A plant?” Stiles puts a paw on the hard trunk and mews insistently.  
“A tree?” A more satisfied mew and a nod.  
“How, did you eat it?” Stiles sends him a withering look.  
“Alright, alright. I've always hated 20 questions,” he frowns as he thinks hard. Then a thought strikes him.  
“It wasn't the Nematon was it?” A single nod.  
“Fuck.” Another nod.

Not long after, they're in Derek's Camero driving to Deaton's. Stiles is scampering around on the back seat his kitten side thoroughly enjoying the ride and allowing him to shake off his worries for a while. Derek mutters something about cat hair on the seats but he doesn't mind that much.

They reach Deaton's Animal Clinic in good time and thankfully it looks as though the car park is deserted. Stiles allows Derek to carry him inside and set him down on the counter. Derek presses the bell and a minute or two later Deaton comes out of the back room.  
“Derek,” he greets. He looks at the kitten with curiosity. “Are you bringing me a stray?”  
“This is Stiles.”  
“It belongs to Stiles?”  
“No. Stiles has been turned into a kitten. By the Nematon apparently.” Deaton almost looks surprised, Derek suppresses a smirk.  
“Meow,” Stiles confirms.  
“That's very unusual,” He leans down to inspect Stiles, “I've never seen anything like it before.” Deaton reaches out to pick the kitten up and examine him more thoroughly. The kitten's frightened instinct takes over, his tail lashes and he springs back with a hiss before taking a flying leap up onto Derek and clinging onto the front of his shirt with his little claws.  
“Ouch,” Derek complains, but his hand comes up immediately to steady him and give a reassuring stroke. “Look, do you know how to turn him back?”  
“No. Full animal transformation requires a very powerful magic. I don't think anything but the thing that turned him will be able to turn him back.”  
Derek groans, Deaton is both as helpful and completely unhelpful as usual.  
“And how do we get the Nematon to turn Stiles back?”  
“I have no idea. It is intelligent, and it may have had some design in mind for turning Stiles, but then again it might not. I can do some reading, but I expect you will have as much luck going and asking it yourself.” This last he addresses to Stiles.  
“Meowow,” Stiles looks up at Derek uncertainly.  
“I 'll come with you, you can't make it all on your own before dark from here.” At this Stiles gives a purr and nuzzles into the werewolf's arms.  
“And what will you do if the Nematon decides to turn you into something too?”  
“I guess I'll have to take that chance. Keep an eye out. If there are two cats waiting outside your door tomorrow, you'll have to come up with a better idea.”

They go back to the car. Derek doesn't turn the engine on straight away. “Do you want me to call your Dad, Stiles?” The kitten tilts his head on one side, thinking. At last he shakes his head slowly. “You can just tell him about it yourself once you're human again, ok?” Derek offers, trying to be positive. Stiles nuzzles him again and then jumps onto the passenger seat, ready to be off.  
“Ok, lets go.”

They drive quietly, Stiles is much more subdued, he stares out at the trees as they enter the preserve. Derek pulls up at the side of the road as near as he can drive to the Nematon. He gets out and Stiles follows him. It's not a cold day and there's some sun peeping from behind cloud cover leftover from the rains of the day before. Even so it seems bleak to Derek and Stiles; their hope seems futile. Stiles is immeasurably grateful that Derek is wiling to go with him. And he's not making it weird. His face is kinda frowny but no more than usual from what Stiles can see from his position on the ground.

They set off. Derek knows the way pretty well, there's a sense of the Nematon all around this area and it gets stronger the nearer he gets. Stiles knows the way too. He's been there a few times after all, including last night, but it does all look a bit different from his current point of view. He's glad that Derek hasn't asked what he was doing at the Nematon. It's a bit embarrassing really. He's been having dreams of the old tree again. Not ominous ones really, but there's an other worldliness and a lure about them that is hard to ignore. So he goes there just to see it again, at night, and he doesn't tell anyone where he's going. He's even left a message for his dad that he's going to stay at Scott's for a night or so. Not the smartest thing he's ever done. It's nice seeing Derek like this though. Stiles doesn't know if the glowering werewolf would ever admit but he's certain he's seen some real smiles on Derek's face, some big grins and softer ones too as he plays with him. As much as Stiles wants to be human again, he doesn't want to loose that new closeness with Derek.

As they walk on and on Stiles's mood feels a little melancholic but more so his feet hurt. It's a long way for tiny paws and the ground is rough. He doesn't want to be a burden but if there's much further to go he can't keep up with Derek much longer. He's trailing behind a bit already. Eventually he has to stop and sit down. He lets out a quiet mewl. Derek turns. The kitten is several paces back, sitting on a rise in the ground, he shifts a bit then meeps softly. Then Derek sees him stand up on his back legs and try and stretch out his little front paws towards him, asking to be picked up. He manages it for a moment then over balances and stumbles forwards a few steps. Derek nearly kicks himself. Of course this is too far for Stiles. His paws must be hurting and Derek didn't notice, lost in his own thought, leaving Stiles to struggle on his own. He goes back before Stiles has to ask again and puts out both hands. The kitten jumps on at once with a happy little squeak and a rub of his head on Derek's thumb to let him know there are no hard feelings. Derek lifts him up to eye level. Stiles blinks his wide amber eyes at him. “We'll stick together, ok, whatever happens.” Stiles lets out a squeak of agreement and puts a little paw on Derek's cheek. Quickly, so he doesn't over think it he leans forwards and licks the corner of Derek's mouth. If his face wasn't furry it would be flaming. Derek smiles at him and strokes two fingers down over his head to his tail.

“Come on then.” Derek turns and continues on towards the Nematon, he brings the kitten up to sit on his shoulder. There's room enough for a little kitten and Stiles finds he enjoys being at head height again. Derek goes on, sure of his path and before noon they reach the clearing where the giant tree stump resides. Derek's surprised; out of the stump several small shoots have appeared, the tallest is nearly three feet high already and their leaves are broad and lush. There's a beautiful stillness in the clearing and neither of them feel the need to talk.

Derek lifts Stiles down and the kitten pads cautiously over to the stump and hops up onto it. Derek follows warily. Stiles pads over to the centre of the stump, Derek joins him and they sit facing each other. Stiles closes his eyes and he feels the presence of a third being, besides him and Derek. He can almost feel a greeting of some kind touching his mind. He's not sure how one says hello to a tree god-spirit thing but he does his best and then thinks hard about how much he wants to be turned human again along with apologies if he has somehow offended the great tree and brought this upon himself.

Derek's thoughts are beseeching, wishing for Stiles's restoration although there's a small part of him that can't help thinking about how much he'll miss Stiles once things go back to normal. He's in the right place to help now but after Stiles will choose his own friends and not think of Derek again. He can feel something looking at his mind. It seems to be going deep, brushing past his pleading and looking through his past interactions towards Stiles. Derek's hope fades. This will be disastrous. He knows that Stiles had never liked him, its not surprising, very few people do, he's no good with people and the harder he tries the more he seems to scare them. Whatever the ancient spirit is looking for it won't find it in his head.

Stiles tries to follow where the Nematon is going in his mind, it seems to be looking at his previous meetings with Derek and also the events of the day before. It looks too at Stiles alone, when he wakes up sweating with fear from his dreams of the Nogitsune, of finding his friends and his dad's dead bodies in front of him. And then of him the day before, so trusting in the presence of the werewolf, and Derek never betraying that trust. Stiles makes up his mind.

* * * * *

Derek opens his eyes at the same moment as Stiles and he smiles. There's Stiles, human again and grinning at him. The relief is almost palpable. It worked! Derek is so glad that he can't even be sad for the moment that he'll never see kitten Sties again.  
“It worked!”  
“I can see. How do you feel?”  
“Back to normal I suppose, I don't know how you get used to animal transformation; everything looks and feels so different.”  
“My change is mostly aesthetic; all my senses stay pretty much the same. And I don't change size.” He continues after a pause. “Well, I-I suppose I'll take you home now. You can tell your dad all about it after all.”  
“Oh, sure, I mean of course I'll go home now. I don't want him to get really worried about me or anything. I mean I told him I was going to Scott's but he might've checked by now and then he'd freak out.”  
“Ok then.”  
Derek seems to be closing off to his usual self again. Stiles isn't having it.  
“But I thought maybe I could come by later on? I know you're probably sick of Stiles company by now but there's going to be some more Firefly on tonight and I figured we could hang out and watch it together.” Stiles shifts a bit, ready to be shot down “I'll bring take-out.” he offers.  
Derek looks at him without speaking for a minute, his expression is confused. Stiles tries to be patient. He realises that Derek looks wary, like he's not sure if he believes that Stiles wants to hang out with him.  
“Alright.” He decides slowly. Stiles's voice is released again. “Awesome, ok I'll be round at sixish, and I'll bring Thai if that's alright, yeah we should head back now.” Stiles ignores the echo of rumbling laughter inside his head. They make their way back to Derek's car and drive back to town. Derek doesn't talk except in grunts, Stiles talks a lot both in nervous agitation and because he hasn't been able to for the last day, that's a lot of time to make up for. Derek actually finds it soothing. There isn't any pressure on him to talk when Stiles is around. Stiles catches Derek's lips twitching when he talks about his fear of potential future hairballs. He calls that a win.

Later as six o'clock approaches, Derek finds himself looking forward to hanging out with Stiles the human this evening. Stiles is prompt and comes bearing a hot bag of food. Derek sets them up on the sofa with plates on the coffee table. Then Stiles takes a breath. “So you should probably know why I went to the Nematon the other night. It had been showing up in my dreams. It was a pretty stupid thing to do I guess. The Nogitsune memories have been pretty bad lately, you see, I can't seem to get it out of my head, and these dreams didn't feel like those. I don't know why the Nematon turned me into a kitten but I don't think it was bad. Malicious I mean. It seems like its growing again, full of new creation energy, instead of past anger. And well, I asked it for a favour. When I was a kitten I forgot all the worry about the Nogitsune. I still knew it had happened but it didn't bother me like it has been doing. Made me feel like I would get past it. Maybe even sometime soon. And I know my dad has been worrying about me so I try to be ok but its not always that easy. I'm sure you get that.  
“So anyway I asked it if I could be a kitten again. Not always, but sometimes. And it said yes! Said I could change when I wanted for the next year and then I'd have to come back and see it again!”  
Derek is dumbfounded. “That's amazing Stiles! And I'm glad there's something that helps.”  
“Well the thing is, being a kitten is also quite stressful. I'm not powerful or anything. I was terrified to begin with. More than I can remember being in ages. But the part when it got good was with you. You took really good care of me. Do you know it was only after I'd eaten the food that I was calm enough to even recognise you?”  
“Most animals can't stand the werewolf thing.”  
“The kitten was scared of that to start with. But once I'd realised it was you I wasn't anymore. And you never hurt me, it was easy to trust you.”  
Derek looks a bit overwhelmed by this. He clears his throat a bit. “Have you tried changing again yet?”  
“No, actually. I was wondering if you have any tips on that?”  
“Well its not quite the same scale but for me it's just thoughts that trigger the muscle memory. Then eventually you don't even need the thoughts to produce it. Perhaps you could try imagining yourself as the kitten, how it felt physically and emotionally and all of that. It might be enough to bring it on.”  
Stiles nods, willing to try the method. “I'll have a go. Um can I do it in your bathroom or something? I know the clothes seem to go with me but it still feels odd to try it in front of someone.”  
“Sure, go ahead. Just don't shut the door behind you or you'll get stuck if it works.”  
Derek waits with baited breath, hoping this will work, and that he hasn't just imagined the whole thing. It takes a few minutes, and Derek begins to wonder if he should go and investigate, When he hears a mewl from the bathroom. Out of the door scampers Stiles, kitten shaped once more and bounding towards him. Derek finds himself dropping to his knees on the floor and holding out his hands to the little kitten. Stiles springs into his arms and nuzzles into his face, squeaking with joy. Derek sinks his fingers into the soft fur, gently stroking, and sighing in blissful contentment.

Stiles changes back soon after, wanting to see if he can and not wanting to get less than his usual portion of take-out. They sit close on the sofa. The contact between them is easy and comfortable if not quite as direct as when Stiles is transformed. Derek is enjoying seeing Stiles look more carefree than he has done for a while. For so long its been normal for Stiles to look and smell stressed and tired, and this is a refreshing change. He also notices that his cheeks start to hurt from the smiling that he's been so unaccustomed to.

Once the food is eaten, Stiles changes back so that firefly watching can be accompanied by ear scratches. Stiles has decided that his favourite spot is on Derek's chest, there he can feel his heart beat and it's a more comfortable than jeans for long periods. Derek at last gets the message when Stiles tries to tackle him down on the sofa, squeaking furiously and head butting his sternum. Then he's laughing too much to actually do it so Stiles grabs hold of his henley in his tiny jaws and tries to drag the werewolf down instead. In his surprise, Derek almost over balances on top of him. Stiles leaps out from underneath with a squeal just in time. Eventually they are settled. Derek strokes through his fur firmly but gently and Stiles tiny purrs blend with the music of the opening credits to their show.

A cosy drowsiness has come over both of them by the time the episodes are finished, and it takes a great deal of will for Derek to get them both to bed. There isn't a question of Stiles going home. Derek settles him on the same pillow as last time and then get in himself. The kitten rouses enough to give one last “prowp,” in Derek's direction and reaches out his tongue to touch on his cheek. “Goodnight, Stiles.” Derek wishes as they both fall asleep.


End file.
